Two Testaments (52 page)

It struck David as strange that Ophélie would insist so. In the past months he had learned not to question his daughter’s intuition, though she was only a child. So he peeked into the boys’ dorm.

“Have you seen Hussein?” he questioned Sister Isabelle, coming back into the hallway. “He’s not in his bed.”

“Well, I’m sure he was there fifteen minutes ago when we turned the lights out. Perhaps he got up to use the bathroom.”

David checked the bathroom. Then he stepped into the courtyard, where Gabriella met him.

“What’s up, David? We’re going to be late.”

“Ophélie wanted me to tell Hussein about Moustafa. She was quite insistent. But I can’t find the boy. He’s not in his bed or the bathroom.”

“Oh great. Do we have to go looking for him?” Gabriella said crossly. “He’s a strange kid. Maybe he wanted a little night air.”

“Gabby.” He grabbed her arm. “I know this evening is important to you. It is to me too. But I think there’s something the matter. I think Hussein has run away.”

Gabriella sighed, exasperated. “Well, if he has, he can’t have gone too far. I know I saw him a little while ago.”

“Will you help me look? It won’t take long.”

“Oh all right. But Mme Leclerc and Mme Pons are waiting to tell us all good-bye. They’re leaving early tomorrow morning, you know. And the dinner reservations were for eight thirty.”

He took her by the hand and kissed it. “I promise I’ll make it up to you, Gabby. This will be a night you won’t forget.”

She rolled her eyes and laughed. “Right.”

It took only five minutes to inspect the dining hall and the parsonage. No Hussein.

“Now what?” Gabriella asked. “We could just shout out for him.”

“Good idea.” David cupped his hands around his mouth and called out loudly, “Hussein. Hey, Hussein! Wherever you’re hiding, come here. I’ve got some great news.” He paused. Nothing. “Hey, Hussein. Moustafa is alive! He’s here in Montpellier. I saw him tonight. He wants to see you too.”

They waited a few more minutes. Then they looked at each other and shrugged.

Ophélie still could not sleep. She heard her father’s faint voice calling out to Hussein. She stared at the top of the bunk bed, chewed on her hair, and wondered what to do. Tiptoeing into the hall, she went into the bathroom. She could never make it up into the window without help. She came back into the hallway.

Sister Isabelle poked her head out of her room. “Ophélie! What are you doing?”

“Didn’t you hear Papa calling out? Hussein is missing.”

Sister Isabelle looked very tired. “Sweetheart, he’ll come back. You go on to bed.”

“Please, let me just check. If he’s sad, he might listen to me.”

“Oh all right.”

Ophélie ran out into the courtyard. Her father was no longer there.

“Hussein!” she called. “Hussein, where are you? I know you’re around here. Please come back.” She looked around and tried the doors. The dining room and parsonage were both locked. She went over to the stone wall and stood on her tiptoes. “Hussein! Are you down there? Please come back. Moustafa is alive. I saw him!”

Sister Isabelle patted her head. “I’m afraid it will have to wait until tomorrow, dear.”

Ophélie swung around. “If another child was missing, you would be worried. Why don’t you care about Hussein?”

Sister Isabelle knelt down beside Ophélie. “Of course I care about Hussein, dear. I love all of the children. It’s just that I am so tired tonight. So much has happened. But you’re right; we must find him. Wait for me here. I’ll get my robe.”

A stone hit the wall. Then another came over the wall from the park below and landed near Ophélie’s feet. She peered over. “Hussein? Is it you?”

A voice called up to her. “Shh. Yes. Is it true? About Moustafa?”

“Yes! Yes! Mama’s staying with him at the hospital tonight. Isn’t it wonderful? Now come back here. What are you doing anyway? If you were going to run away, you could have at least told me. I thought we were friends.” She leaned far over the wall, trying to see him.

“Hey, what are you doing, Ophélie? You’re going to fall!”

She laughed. “I’m staying right here until you come back up, that’s what I’m doing.”

“You little brat,” he muttered, but she could tell he was smiling. “You promise he’s alive?”

“Yes, you big bully. I promise. And if you get up here and go to bed, we can both go see him in the morning.”

“All right, but I don’t know if I can climb back up.”

“Well, don’t then. Go all the way around. I’ll fetch Sister Isabelle, and we’ll meet you at the front door to the parsonage.”

“D’accord.”

“You’re coming, aren’t you? You promise?”

“I’m coming.”

For the second time in his life Hussein felt as if something outside of himself was controlling his destiny. The first time had been when he had not shot the little girl. And now here she was, begging him to come back. It was very, very strange.

He walked around the exterior of the church, and as he came into the street, he almost bumped into David and Gabriella.

“Hussein! There you are! Whatever are you doing?”

He regarded David sullenly.

“You go on, Gabby. I’ll be there in a minute.”

David put his arm around Hussein’s shoulder and walked him back toward the parsonage. “What’s the matter? Did you hear the good news?”

“Yeah, I heard you.”

David stopped him and took hold of his arms. “What’s the matter, Hussein?”

Hussein turned away, and David saw the revolver protruding from under the boy’s pajamas. He reached for it. “Where in the world did you get this? What were you going to do, Hussein?”

Hussein stared at the ground. “What do you think? Anyway, it’s none of your business.”

David shook him hard. “What do you mean?”

Hussein looked up. “I wasn’t going to use it on anyone else.” He turned his eyes down again. “Just on myself. That’s all.”

“Oh, Hussein! Son, people here care about you! What good will it do you to blow your brains out?”

“What do you know? I’ve screwed it all up. Everything.” He began to cry, and he hated himself for it.

“You’re only a child, Hussein. A child caught up in a terrible grown-up war. It’s going to be okay. Somehow, I promise, it’s going to be okay.”

Hussein sobbed into David’s shirt. “You can say that. Your mother isn’t weeping for you. You aren’t worried that any day Ali will go into her house and shoot her because he hasn’t heard from me.” He handed David the envelope. “Will you mail this for me? You can read it if you want.”

“Yes, Hussein. We’ll take care of this tomorrow. I’ll help you. Now go back to bed.”

They were at the parsonage door, where Ophélie and Sister Isabelle waited.

“You don’t have any more little toys like this, do you?” David asked, turning the gun over in his hands.

Hussein shook his head.

“Go on then. We’ll work it out tomorrow.”

Hussein suddenly felt a great wave of relief. Impulsively he gave David a hug. As he walked into the parsonage, Ophélie took his hand.

He heard David whisper to Sister Isabelle, “Keep an eye on him tonight, will you? He’s having a rough time. When I get back, I’ll sleep in the dorm. We won’t be too late.”

Maybe they do care
, Hussein thought.
Maybe they care about me after all.

David had chosen a restaurant overlooking the Lez river, which ran between Montpellier and Castelnau. It took two trips in his deux chevaux to get all seven of them to the restaurant. The maître d’ frowned a bit, explaining that it had been impossible to hold their reservation for an hour, but eventually they were seated at a round table outside under the parasols. The river reflected the images of the buildings around it through a light on the sidewalk. A large fountain spewed water high into the sky, and some of the sprinkles drifted in the slight breeze to their table.

“This must be a really expensive place,” Jessica whispered.

“Shh,” Gabriella warned. “David’s dad is paying.”

David gave her a nod as she chatted happily with her sisters and mother, content to let David pursue a conversation with their fathers.

When the main course arrived, each plate was covered with a silver dome. Three waiters surrounded the table and, all at once, lifted the domes to reveal the beautifully arranged food on the plates.

“Well, if it tastes as good as it looks, we’re in for a treat,” Roger noted, thanking the waiters and picking up his fork to taste his
tournedos au poivre
.

Rebecca Madison addressed David politely. “Do you have any plans for the future now that the exchange program has been discontinued?”

David dabbed his mouth, a tiny grin playing there as he watched Gabriella squirm. “Actually I have several possibilities, but nothing definite. I’m afraid I haven’t had the time to think of much beyond the moment.”

“Of course not. Do you think you will stay in France?”

“I know I want to be close to my daughter, to see her as often as possible.” He felt a little tension at the table. “But of course I plan to keep in close touch with your daughter also.” He touched Gabriella’s hand, and she blushed. “That is, if you don’t mind.”

This he said to Gabriella’s father, who scratched his brow nervously and chewed for a moment before replying. “Well, no. I’m sure that’s a good idea, however it can be arranged. If nothing else, letters are a great way to get to know each other better.”

“I for one have had quite enough of letters for a while,” David stated, winking at Gabriella. There was a moment of awkwardness, and David pressed on, feeling the beads of sweat forming on his brow. “What I mean is …” He looked around the table, then turned to Gabriella and took her hand in his. Staring only at her, he started again. “What I mean is that I would like to keep her very close to me for a while. For a long, long while.”

No one spoke. Gabriella looked at him, horrified, as if to say,
You are ruining the evening. Please don’t shock them.

Gabriella’s mother cleared her throat, and Jessica giggled.

“What I’m trying to say, Mr. and Mrs. Madison, is that I would like to marry your daughter.” Then he added, almost sheepishly, “If-if that is all right with you.”